Achilles Heel
by Lucky's Girl
Summary: Everybody has one, a weak spot that can knock down the best laid plans. It can be bad, it can be good, sometimes it simply melts away a cold approach to the world and opens your view of it. Romy. One-Shot.


Author's Note- A little AU idea that came of a writing prompt I was given. Just one of those fun, alternate reality one-shots.

* * *

Cards shuffled tightly against each other, slapping against each other in timed increments. Gambit stood, leaned against a doorway in mock casual, trench coat tilted away from his boots, dusting the ground instead of the back of his legs.

Waiting… that was what he was doing, waiting to hear what it was they were all summoned here for. Sinister was never really known for his bluntness though, in a way, at times he could be, but he enjoyed discretion and making someone guess and play along with his egotistical games.

Which all worked for Remy. What did he care? Long as he got told what he needed to do, as long as he got paid like he was supposed to, well then his job was well and done, wasn't it? Oui. He'd been playing this gig long enough with Essex to know he would pay up on his end of the bargain.

It had all started with a bargain. When out of control, young, nameless Remy showed up on his doorstep, hearing about his underground operations, what he was proficient in, the things he did and what he was supposedly supposed to do, the first hand had been played.

He was told he'd owe him someday and with his powers under his control again… he set off to work himself up some jobs. Remy wasn't the best thief in the business, but he'd been stealing and scrapping his entire life. Since before he remembered, he'd lived with and worked for cigarettean, a petty mobster in New Orleans who ran orphaned kids to get a living.

It put food on the preverbal table and a somewhat steady place for Remy anyways. Sure, he had no last name, no family to speak up, hadn't for all his years and wouldn't have one now. He'd worked there, with cigarettean and the rest of the group until his powers started acting up. When he was fourteen and they'd first started up, he'd been able to hide it easily enough, only having bursts sometimes, practicing only when he was far enough out of the city to not be seen. Or when he visited that fortune teller who went only by Tante Mattie.

She was the only reason he stuck around New Orleans at that point, the motherly healer helping keep him out of trouble. But soon enough he'd gotten older, eighteen, nineteen, and his powers started becoming more uncontrollable. So Remy did the only thing he could think of, he searched for a solution and being a street urchin in what could be considered a thieving capital, it had its benefits.

Benefits that led him to Monsieur Nathanial Essex and a new career, a well _paying_ career. So he'd done what he owed him, collected a group of brutish killers and unknowingly led them into a sewer system. It was hard… and he'd started to run, try to help some little kid out.

But Sabertooth had stopped him, nearly gutting him completely. He'd passed out somewhere out of the sewers where he'd dragged himself. Woke up again to look at the face of Essex, tutting at him for his 'bravado' and 'heroism'.

Eventually… he thought it over more; owed Sinister again for fixing him up, went out on more tasks for him… it wore away from him. The initial repulsion he'd felt, he remembered the old rules of the streets. If it wasn't you it was them and… it was survival of the fittest, this world. Sure he didn't enjoy it like some of the sicker minded people among the group of Marauders… but it didn't turn him away. It was all just a job for Gambit.

So here he was, leaning against a doorway as Essex finally made his entrance, going into what they were to be doing. He looked a little more off than usual, his cool exterior certainly still there, but Remy's eyes could pick up a bit more urgency in his movements, his words just a bit more pushy and precise.

Whatever this was, it was important or dangerous for Essex. Again, Remy noted it but it didn't mean too much to him. As long as he got paid.

"I want them very much eliminated," Essex spoke his final words, eliciting a cold chuckle from Sabertooth, a few insanity tinged laughs from Scalphunter and Arclight, Malice smirking deviously, the ever loyal lieutenant.

D'accord, get rid of whoever this X-Man guy was. Sounded easy enough for the way they'd always worked. So of course they did what they usually did, stirred up a bon old ruckus.

Sabertooth could probably do it on his own, jumping down from the window of a building, treating the streets parked in the streets like they were nothing but matchboxes to a kid out in a sandbox, Malice jumping in to possess the officers that soon showed up to the scene, Scalphunter wrecking most everything in sight and Arclight and Riptide tearing and knocking things over.

Remy just leaned back against a telephone post, smoking a cigarette as he let the others do what they usually did. Sure, he could blow up some cars, make a fancy, 'fun' show of things, but he was going to reserve his strength for when these X-Men showed up. Glass shattered down from an outdoor television screen Arclight's shockwave had pierced and Remy reached out to tap out some of the ashes from his cigarette, red eyes moving up slowly as he heard something above them.

"Looks like the calvary's arrived," Sabertooth said with a cold, sadistic excitement, dropping a car as his eyes looked up at the same place Remy had been watching. Something had streaked off of the light in the wrong way on the top of a building.

Sure enough, a group of people, dressed up in spandex and the sort jumped down from the building, coming in their various ways.

"An' which one exactly are we getting 'rid' of?" Remy asked, looking over at Malice who'd gotten the full briefing he expecte.

"I'm sure as many as possible would please him," She spoke, before pushing Remy lightly towards the street. He just sent her a dark look. "But the one zipping around in the leather jacket is top priority. He wants that one taken alive."

"Alive? What for?" Not that he had a problem with that, actually he preferred it if ever possible. Like he said, he didn't have the same love for death and destruction these others seemed to live for. Definitely cared about it more than the money, but if they didn't produce, Gambit didn't get paid and he would be wasting his time. Which he wasn't interested in doing.

"The same thing he always wants?" Harpoon snickered, Malice took to ignoring him, attacking a fille with white hair who was electrocuting Sabertooth. Yeah, for experiments then. Though hell, Remy had been a test experiment in Essex's eyes once probably. Who knew.

All he knew was that he pulled out a deck of cards, fingering the top few cards as he slipped backwards into the shadows. There were explosions, shouts, debris flying, and the general sounds of battle going on around him so it made it a little hard to sneak up on the X-Men in question. But he'd just snag the guy and take him out of harm's way.

Get back to Essex, get his paycheck and go hit a bar or something.

He waited until Sabertooth had thrown the blurring person past the alleyway he was hidden in, red eyes peering out of the darkness and into the side of a building. A wall that was collapsed into rubble around the person. But he'd seen the leather jacket in the blurring motion and Remy took the time to throw down a few cards and get the one guy's attention elsewhere before slipping towards the area, eyeing the person who was throwing large cement chunks off of them.

"Someone's gonna get mah…"

Remy stared a little stunned, hand still clasping on the edge of the building, glowing card in his hand as he looked at the… the person they were supposed to be taking to Essex, his chest tying up a but hesitantly as the glow died from his cards, eyes latching onto the round face, shifting to the chestnut curls framed with white… it…

Well he'd be damned, his luck could go with him, straight to hell.

"Remy?"

_It was hot, it was muggy and it felt like home. Sure it wasn't home, but the roadside bar, residing in a wind-blown shack, spoke of good old southern spirits. He swung his leg off the bike, pulling his jacket forward as he walked towards the bar. He'd actually robbed a bank, a national bank. He smirked a bit to himself. If cigarettean and his lot could see him now! His powers were under control and he was free to do anything he liked._

_Remy hadn't been in this good of spirits in… well he didn't remember the last time. But his hair was tousled from the long ride on his bike and he was thirsty, ready for a good time._

_He sauntered into the room, sunglasses perched on his face to hide his eyes from any interested parties. Remy walked up to the bar, grinning charmingly at the barmaid. He spoke a few lines with her, enough to get the blonde to blush prettily at him before he ordered a bourbon and she went about finding a cup for him, excusing herself that they had none clean up front._

_It was halfway through the night and he'd relocated from leaning against the bar, already got the barmaid's phone number in case he felt like it, and was sitting back, enjoying the cozy, small bar's atmosphere._

_Half way through the night, the door opened again, a small bell ringing to all still sober enough to pay attention as somebody else entered the scene. A fille walked in and she didn't just draw his attention, her full hips swinging as she walked up to the bar and took a seat at the stool._

_Remy found himself staring at the back of her, sipping at his bourbon, not getting up right away, like three other guys found themselves doing over the next hour. Trying to talk to her, probably whoo her a bit as he sipped at whatever drink she'd ordered._

_"Chere," Remy spoke up later into the night, catching the attention of a different barmaid from before. She stopped at the table, asking what she could do for him. "Whatever dat fille wid de streaks be drinkin', give her anot'er on me."_

_The girl nodded, spurred on by the tip he handed to her. He leaned back in his seat, drinking at his third bourbon of the night. It wasn't too long before the barmaid set the drink down in front of her, lips moving as she spoke to her._

_As suspected… her head moved around the bar not long later, just about ten minutes and he looked over at her as her eyes landed on him in the corner, staring at her intently from behind his glasses. She raised an eyebrow and he lifted up his bourbon glass, lifting it mock towards her before taking as sip of it._

_Then, unexpectedly, the fille got up and walked over towards him, glass held by the top edge of it, over towards him. She reached him and Remy took in her figure behind his glasses, not being obvious about it as she held her arm out, green tipped fingers still clutching the edge._

_He just sipped his own drink, not taking the glass she was attempting to push back at him._

_"What's the big idea?"_

_"Just looked like y'could use a drink." He offered, setting his bourbon down and motioning to offered a seat across from him in the booth._

_"Nice, but I had one."_

_"I'd need a second drink, all dat work brushin' off dem bar dwellers."_

_"Don' know if yah noticed, Sugah," She spoke, in a perfectly clear Mississippi accent."Yaur in the bar too."_

_Remy smirked a bit, oh… she wasn't your normal fille was she? He leaned forward slightly, his attention drawn completely on her._

_"But y'an' me, we ain't… regulars, hein?" He said, reaching out to finger brush two fingers up her arm an inch or two, running one gloved, one plain finger up along the silk, lengthy glove going up just above her elbows._

_She jerked back quickly, eyes narrowing angrily, but he just leaned forward, nodding his head down practiced to peer out from behind them. His hair hung slightly in one eye, blocking part of the red glowing orbs._

_But it made her sit down; keeping the drink he'd gotten for her. They talked throughout the night and Remy was surprised to find himself easing into it. His cool, smooth lines dying away from his surface thoughts as they talked most of the night away. Until it was two in the morning, and as per any southern run bar, it was closing time because it was Sunday tomorrow._

_Remy stood up, offering her a hand to stand up with. She ignored it, standing on her own and he smirked a bit, sweeping down in a slight bow as he took her hand and kissed the back of her glove. She tensed oddly again, muscles in her hand tightening around his as much as they tried to pull away._

_But Remy let go after he head, standing up to smile smoothly at her._

_"See y'round, Cherie," Remy said, leaving the money on the table to pay for his drinks as well as hers. He turned towards the door, figuring right about now she was probably looking into her gloved hand to see the slip of paper he'd tucked into her hand when he'd bid her goodbye._

_Oui… he would definitely have to be seeing that sweet, southern fille again._

Before he knew what he was doing, Remy leaned in, gripping a hand around her upper arm, pulling her up out of the rubble, her against him as he tugged her into the shadowy alleyway.

"Y'need t'get outta here, Anna," Remy said urgently, getting a nearly dumbfound look over her pretty face before her lips pursed, eyebrows dipping in as she brushed his hand off of her like he'd just been a speck of dirt.

"Not a chance, swamp rat."

"Rogue," He snapped seriously, gripping her arm tightly as he yanked her back towards him. Didn't do much in effect, except flare up her fiery temper, telling him to get off of her. "Dey're after _you_, y'need t'get out."

"An' how would yah know that exactly? She asked mindlessly, just a quip, just a snip at him… until he didn't answer in a similar answer and her green eyes grew rounder. Anna yanked hard out of his grip, backing up slightly as her eyes darted to the mouth of the alleyway, the fight still raging, and then back at him, face curling up angrily.

Remy looked at her, head dipping downward as his eyes darkened and… for the first time in a good few years, since the Massacre and Essex getting him back into things… Remy felt shamed. Or maybe it was just the shame in her eyes eliciting his feelings, but he… felt guilt crawl through his chest and his partially gloved hand curled slightly.

"Dey're after you," He repeated, stepping back away from her towards the shadows. "Get out while y'can Rogue."

He slipped back, letting the shadows engulf him, closing out the view of Anna. He debated for half a moment if he should just return to the fight, batter up some of those X-Men and not look suspicious. Just look like he had failed. But as he glanced back, that dark guilt seemed to coil up tightly in his stomach and Remy swung up the fire escape to leave the scene.

Suddenly he wanted nothing to do with any of the other jobs he might be handed either.

But he stopped a moment later as he heard a shout, closing his eyes as he debated with himself. Slipping away was going to be hard enough without Essex looking to him. But he didn't owe him anything, was a base employee, even if he was a good one.

"Always s'predictable, Remy," He muttered to himself. He was all for self-interest… until there was a damsel in distress and then suddenly he had imaginary morals that cropped up out of nowhere.

He gritted his teeth once, turning to leap down off the building, maroon light cards spraying Sabertooth and Harpoon, blowing up with a shattering effect as he landed on the ground and pulled out more, aiming for Riptide before he got going again, shooting him off of the fille with the white hair, eyes searching out Rogue to smirk at her with a wink as she stared a bit stunned at him for a moment before launching back into battle.

Yeah, he was a sucker for the filles, everyone had to have some Achilles heel. Remy's just had vibrant chestnut hair, dazzlingly green eyes, and an attitude could light up a dying city.


End file.
